


Vern Got Run Over By A Reindeer

by CatHeights, Maverick



Series: MavCat Productions [1]
Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-24
Updated: 2001-12-24
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:54:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatHeights/pseuds/CatHeights, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maverick/pseuds/Maverick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Did Santa make an early visit to Oz and knock out Vern, or is someone else responsible?</p><p>This story was written before season 5 premiered, and therefore is slightly AU considering how things turned out that season.</p><p>A MavCat Production.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vern Got Run Over By A Reindeer

Chris didn't know why Miss Sally was even bothering to wear a Santa hat. No one was looking at her goddamn head. Then again, it was supposed to be a kid's show, so someone might actually be looking at the hat. Well, no one in Oz was looking anywhere besides those fucking huge breasts. But who the hell cared about that? Who the hell cared anything about anyone in Oz, particularly at this time of year? It was more like Merry Christmas please don't remind us of your existence and ruin the holidays for us. Thanks. Christmas, life was always better when the damn thing passed.

Arms across his chest, Chris stared at the TV, completely bored. Those tits were doing nothing for him today. Still, it was better than watching “Up Your Ante.” What would be even better, though, would be for Beecher to show up. Where the fuck was he? He had said, I'll see you in an hour in front of the TV. Well, it was almost an hour and half, and no Toby.

With a frown, he turned to look behind him, hoping to see Beecher walking toward him, but all he saw was O'Reily strolling his way. He nodded to other man and then turned back to the TV. Chris yanked off his earphones. It wasn't like he needed to hear whatever sing-songy thing Miss Sally was saying. Goddamn it, where was Beecher?

Chris knew Toby probably had a good reason for being late, but still he was annoyed. Shit, that wasn't new. Annoyed seemed to be his permanent state of mind these last few days. He knew what the problem was; it was this damned season. Hell, he wasn't the only one bothered by it. The closer it got to Christmas, the more frayed tempers in Oz got. Christmas trees, presents, and silly Santa hats were just reminders of things best forgotten or things one couldn't have. The whole fucking season should just disappear.

Tapping lightly on his arm, Chris thought that at the very least, he should be thankful Toby had agreed not to do something stupid like exchange Christmas presents. In his experience, Christmas gifts meant nothing but disappointment. Things were going so well between he and Toby that the last thing they needed was to jinx it with something like Christmas presents. It wasn't worth the risk, not when they had a limited amount of time together. Toby would be up for parole again soon, and this time he was going to make it. It would hurt like hell to lose Toby, but it would hurt even worse to watch him be denied parole and kept away from his kids. Nope that wasn't going to happen, and nothing was going to wreck the time they had left together.

Of course, two weeks ago when he had gotten Toby to promise no presents, he had almost screwed things up. Desperate to get Toby to agree with him, Chris had let it slip that when he was younger, he had given a damn about Christmas. Well, actually Christmas Eve. Christmas had always been a disappointment, but Christmas Eve now that was the night when all things were possible. The night when once even he had believed that maybe a few of his wishes would be granted. That this time he'd get what he wanted. Yeah, well he'd given up on that fucking fairy tale a long time ago.

As soon as Chris had admitted that once upon a time, he had looked forward to Christmas Eve, he had wanted to groan. He had seen the expression on Toby's face and recognized it immediately. It had been the one that said, “I can fix this. I can make it all better.” Luckily, this time, he had managed to convince Toby that there was nothing to make better. Some things were better left alone. Now, all he had to do was get through two more fucking days, and then Christmas would be behind him. Two days sounded like a short time, but Chris was sure it would feel like an eternity. Damn it. Where the hell was Toby?

Chris noticed someone sliding into the seat next to him, but it wasn't Beecher. He barely acknowledged Ryan's presence, but either the other man didn't notice Chris's bad mood or he didn't care.

"K-boy, you write to Santa and didn't tell me about it?” Ryan asked with a smirk.

“Huh?” Chris said, looking extremely bored.

"You must have been a good fucking boy this year. Cause you got your wish, man.”

Christ, he was not in the mood to deal with this nonsense. “O'Reily, you doing tits again? What the fuck are you talking about?”

"You haven't heard the news?” Ryan asked. He leaned toward Chris, a cunning expression on his face.

“What news?” Chris drew out the words so that every syllable clearly expressed his annoyance. Just once, he wished Ryan would tell the damn story without making it into a game of “guess what.”

"Somebody took a line drive at Schillinger's head.”

Chris's arms dropped off his chest, and he sat up straight. “You're shitting me?”

Ryan shook his head, and his lips quirked in a delighted grin. “Nope, I was in the infirmary when they wheeled him in.”

“He dead?” Chris asked praying to God that he was.

“Unfortunately, no,” Ryan said, his smile disappearing. “He's in a coma, though. And from what I could piece together, he ain't gonna be waking up anytime soon.”

“Where'd it happen?” Why was he starting to get worried? A vague suspicion was making an appearance in his mind, and Chris was hoping that it was nothing more than a ridiculous thought.

“Right outside Sister Pete's office,” Ryan said.

Fuck! “What? When?” Chris could hear the roughness in his own voice.

"'Bout an hour ago.”

The suspicion became a certainty. “Oh shit. Where's Beecher? Have you seen Beecher?”

Ryan jerked his head slightly. “Murphy was bringing him into McManus's office when I sat down.”

Why the hell couldn't O'Reily have mentioned that tidbit of information first, goddamn him. “Fuck, Fuck, Fuuccck!!” Chris said as he glared at Ryan, shoved his chair out of the way and headed for McManus's office.

Oh Christ, what did Beecher do? They'd been speculating for weeks that Vern was up to something, and Chris had wanted to strike first. But no, Toby had said they should ride it out and just keep their eyes open. Idiot that he was, he had agreed. They would wait, and if it was necessary, they would handle Schillinger together. He should have just taken care of that Nazi fuck himself. What had Toby been thinking? He was going to mess up his parole. No, no fucking way was he letting that happen. Chris barreled up the stairs.

He could see Toby sitting in McManus's office, and he headed right for him, only to be blocked by Murphy. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to just force his way past. He had to get through before Beecher made the situation even worse.

"I gotta see McManus. Let me go in and see McManus,” Chris said.

Murphy didn't budge. “He's in a meeting with Beecher right now Keller. You got to wait your turn.”

"I know Beecher's in there. That's what I got to see him about.”

“I don't suppose you're gonna stop bugging me until I let you in there?” Murphy asked with a sigh.

"No," Chris said firmly. One way or another he was getting into that office and shutting Beecher up.

"All right, come on," Murphy said. He paused for a moment, giving Chris a hard look and adding, “This had better be good Keller.”

Chris just nodded, eager to get moving.

Murphy knocked on McManus's door, and as they entered, Chris heard Toby say, “So you see, I'm responsible.”

“Don't believe a word he says. He's a goddamn liar. I did it. I hit Vern.”

Toby spun around in his chair and glared at Chris. “No he didn't. I did it.”

“Look at this Murphy. Usually we can't find anyone who will confess to a crime, and this time we've got two,” McManus said, leaning back in his chair and pressing his fingertips together.

“Come on McManus, you can't seriously think Beecher here did it. Shit, I could see if somebody **bit** Vern, but hitting him over the head? I don't think so. He,” Chris drew out the word, taking a step toward Toby and sneering as he continued, “just don't got it in him.”

Toby snorted. “Oh yeah that's right, I'm just a pussy bitch who never hit anyone. Gee, your nose always been that crooked, Keller?”

"Knock it off. You and I both know you didn't do this. Not with your parole hearing so close.” Chris figured that it should be pretty damn obvious to Toby what he was saying. Shut your fucking mouth, and let me take the rap. I got less to lose. Of course, when had Toby ever taken his advice?

Beecher came to his feet, crossed his arms, and in a voice dripping with condescension said, “And you did it? How exactly did you get in and out of that hallway Keller? Scotty beam you up?”

Chris could tell that Murphy was trying not to laugh, but he couldn't find any of this amusing. Right now, he wanted to strangle Toby. Shit, if he thought it would help, he'd knock Beecher out just to shut him the fuck up.

McManus rolled his eyes. “Beecher makes a legitimate point there, Keller. How exactly did you get in the hallway?”

“I've got my ways. I ain't ratting out nobody else. I'm saying I did it, and I did it alone,” Chris said, facing McManus.

"He's lying. I did it. Why is that so hard for you people to believe? If anybody has a fucking reason to hate Schillinger, it's me,” Toby said.

When he turned to look at Beecher, Chris could see that a long vein in Toby's forehead was raised, an obvious indication that he was frustrated. What the fuck did he have to be frustrated about? This mess was all his fucking fault, and he didn't even have enough common sense to shut the fuck up when someone offered him a way out. Jesus Christ!

Murphy looked thoughtfully at the two convicts glaring at each other, and then met McManus's gaze.

"I think I know how we might solve this dilemma.”

"How?” McManus asked.

“Ok, you mooks, so we know which one of you actually did this. What was Vern hit with?”

Shit, Chris thought as he met Toby's eyes looking for some clue as to what the other man might have used on Vern. Toby wasn't giving him a damn hint, though. He was just watching expectantly. What the hell was going on? As the silence grew, Chris decided to take a chance, and just as he said, “pipe,” Beecher chimed in with “baseball bat.”

McManus looked at Murphy who was shaking his head and trying to hide a grin. With an exasperated shake of his own head, McManus stood and said, “Nice try fellas. When the two of you get your stories straight, come back and see me. But until then, get the hell out of my office.”

Once they had both exited the office, McManus closed the door, and then headed back to his chair. As he sat down, he asked,“Ok, Murph, which one do you think did it?”

Murphy sat on the edge of McManus's desk and said, “You know Timmy, my boy, I don't think it was either of 'em.”

"It had to be,” McManus said.

"Why?” Murphy asked, spreading out his hands, palms upward, as he talked. “There's no short supply of prisoners who wouldn't mind taking a whack at Schillinger. He seems to bring that out in people.”

McManus rubbed his chin. “That's true. Why don't you think it's Beecher or Keller?”

“Not their style.”

“What do you mean?” McManus asked.

"Well Keller doesn't strike me as the kind of fella to just hit someone over the head and run. He'd stick around and make sure the job was done.”

“So Beecher then,” McManus said. He leaned forward in his seat, a determined expression on his face.

Murphy shook his head. “I don't think so. If Beecher was gonna go after Schillinger, don't you think he would have done it last year after his son was killed? What would be the point now?”

Rocking back in his chair, McManus shrugged. “No one would expect him to retaliate now.”

"So he bides his time and then hits him over the head right outside the door where he works?” Murphy frowned. “Doesn't seem logical to me. Beecher may be a crazy bastard at times, but we both know he's smarter than that.”

“True,” McManus said. “Not to mention, neither one knew what Vern got hit with. I think they were trying to save each other and neither of them did it.”

“So we're back at square one then,” McManus said. He shoved aside some papers on his desk with a sigh.

“Looks that way. I'd love to be a fly on the wall when they figure out that the other one didn't do it,” Murphy said with a grin.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Beecher and Keller crossed the common room in silence. Toby prayed that Keller wouldn't say anything to him until they reached their pod. He was so angry that he swore just the sound of Chris's voice would start him screaming. What the hell had Chris been thinking? They had promised each other that if something needed to be done about Schillinger that they would handle it together. Well, obviously Chris hadn't given a damn about that promise. He had trusted Chris to not pull the “I'll take care of it for you, cause I don't matter” routine, and he had done it anyway. And Toby knew damn well that he had probably had O'Reily's help. How else had Chris gotten out of that hallway? O'Reily was so fucking dead.

As Toby crossed the threshold of their pod, his stomach was twisting, and his mind was a whirl of viciously swirling emotions — hurt, anger and fear. Chris had betrayed his trust, and that hurt. Beyond that hurt, though, was a large mixture of anger and fear. He was furious that Chris had put himself at risk and terrified that he would end up being placed in solitary.

Chris closed the door, and then leaned up against it, crossing his arms over his chest. Toby's nostrils flared when he saw Keller's arrogant pose. “Why'd you do it Chris?” he demanded, his voice straining with barely controlled anger.

"I would think that would be fairly obvious,” Chris said.

Toby clenched his fists as he resisted the urge to slam Chris up against the wall and bang some sense into that head of his. “Yeah well, it's not. So why don't you elaborate this time.”

"I do what I got to do Toby, you know that,” Chris said, his tone even, as if he was the one being rational.

"Oh yeah, your standard fucking answer to everything. Consequences be damned,” Toby snarled. He started to pace the length of their bunks, hoping the movement would expel some of his frustration.

Chris's appearance of calm vanished. He walked over to the edge of the bunks and grabbed onto the top one as he glared at Beecher. “Don't start talking to me about forgetting about consequences. You're the one who's trying his damndest to fuck up his parole at every turn.”

Halting his pacing, Toby said, “I am not.”

“You're not huh? So you thought this would improve your chances at getting out?“

“Well, no. But I wanted to make sure you were safe,” Toby said. Under his breath, he added, “Even from yourself.”

Chris stalked over to Toby, getting right in his face. “And why would you think I need **you** to protect me? I know how to take care of myself."

"Oh excuse me Keller, I forgot you're the baddest motherfucker in this place, right? Don't need anyone to watch your back.”

“I don't,” Chris said.

“Fuck that. And while you're at it fuck you too. I'm not your prag." Beecher put a hand against Keller's chest and shoved him just hard enough to open up some distance between them.

Chris stumbled, and then held out his hands in a placating manner. “Who the fuck said you were? Christ Toby, all I said was I don't need you to fight my battles for me.”

“But I'm supposed to let you fight mine?” Toby asked.

“You've got more to lose.”

"Again with the 'my life don't mean dick' argument,” Toby said with an annoyed sniff. “Shit Keller, just cause you've got a fucking tat of Christ on your shoulder doesn't make you a martyr.”

Chris shook his head and walked to the back of the pod. “That's not what I'm saying. You've got to think of your kids, Toby. They need you."

“And no one needs you?” Toby asked.

Chris didn't answer; he just gazed silently at the floor.

Toby stared at Chris for a moment. He felt an incredible sadness battling with his anger. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, he could never seem to convince Chris that he mattered. It had been like this ever since Chris had returned months ago from Cedar Junction. The internal battle that had plagued Toby for much of their relationship had ceased when he had been lucky enough to get Chris back. With Chris gone, he had felt like a part of him was missing, and he wasn't letting anyone take that part from him again. He knew he loved Chris, and that was whatmattered. Yet, while he had found peace and even happiness in Chris's love, it seemed that Chris had become positive that he wasn't worthy of their love.

Toby didn't get it. For a while he had thought Chris's insecurity was the result of something that had happened in Cedar Junction, but nothing Chris told him seemed to account for it. Now, though, he was beginning to realize that Chris had probably always felt this way. Before, he had just been too busy with his own issues and his own pain to see just how much Chris hurt. In the past, he had spent so much time causing Chris pain, and now when he realized that, he couldn't do a fucking thing to heal those wounds. Well, then again, he knew some things never healed. However, that didn't mean you stopped trying. Even if Chris could never believe him, Toby would keep telling him, keep showing him, that he loved him and that he was worth it. And so with a small sigh, Toby tried once more to make Chris understand.

“Don't you get the irony in you thinking that, Chris?” he said. His voice was much softer, the anger temporarily gone from it.

“What?” Chris asked, glancing over at Beecher.

Toby stepped closer. “You keep saying no one needs you and then you contradict yourself every time you try to save me.”

“No I don't. I just want you to be safe Toby. I want...” Chris paused for a moment and swallowed hard before continuing, “I want you to get out of here and live your life.”

"And forget all about you,” Toby prompted.

“Yeah,” Chris said.

"Ain't gonna happen Keller,” Toby said as he tugged on Chris's shirt, pulling him closer. “You're kind of unforgettable. And you're wrong when you say no one needs you Chris.” Placing his palms against Chris's chest, Toby said slowly, “ I. Need. You.”

"Toby.”

"No, listen to me. I need you. I need you here with me.” Toby traced a finger down the side of Chris's face. “What I don't need is you fighting my battles for me. We fight them together, or we don't fight them at all. That's what we promised.”

Chris stepped out of Toby's touch, shaking his head. “That sounds great Toby. But you're the one who went off and broke that promise.”

"What? I did not.”

"You think whacking Vern over the head don't break that promise?“ Chris asked.

”Are you nuts? I didn't hit Vern. _**You**_ did.“ Toby said vehemently.

Chris let out a breath of air and leaned against the top bunk. ”No I didn't. I thought you did.”

“Fuuuuck,” Toby said, pressing his hands against his eyes and turning part way. He took his hands away and walked over to stand next to Chris. “You really didn't?”

"No I didn't. Didn't know nothing about it until Ryan gave me the news. He said it happened right outside Sister Pete's office,” Chris said .

“And **that** made you think I did it. Jesus Fucking Christ, Keller. You must think I'm some kind of idiot. If I was going to try and kill Vern, do you really think I'd do it there?”

Chris reached out and ran a finger along Toby's arm. “You got to admit Beech, when you get pissed off, you don't always think things through.”

Toby opened his mouth to make an angry retort, but found himself a bit distracted by Chris's touch. Somehow he still managed to sound at least mildly annoyed. “Ok, I'll concede that point. But the same thing can be said about you pal.”

"True. So if you didn't do it, and I didn't do it...” Chris said.

“Then who the fuck did?” Toby asked finishing Chris's thought. “Ryan?”

“Nah, O'Reily knows better than to fuck with us. Let me think on that one,” Chris said as he stopped caressing Toby's arm.

'You were really gonna take the rap for me?” Toby asked. He couldn't believe this. Here he thought he was saving Chris, when all the while Chris thought he was saving him. Oh man.

"Of course. Looks like you had the same idea. Why would ya, though?”

“Keller,” Toby growled. What the hell did he have to do to make Chris understand? Surely, Chris at least knew that he'd do anything to keep him safe.

"Calm the fuck down. I know you would do it to protect me,” Chris said, grinning slightly at the nod and sniff Beecher made. The grin disappeared though as he continued, “What I'm asking is what would you be protecting me from? Batting practice with Vern's head certainly ain't gonna mess up my chances at parole."

“McManus said that if you got into any more fights, he was gonna send you to solitary.” Toby said.

"So?"

“I know how much you hated being stuck by yourself in Cedar Junction, and I didn't want that to happen here.” The truth was he couldn't even bear the thought of Chris being stuck alone, possibly remembering what it had been like at Cedar Junction. He knew that Chris hadn't told him everything about his time in Massachusetts and probably never would. Still, between what Chris did say and what he didn't say, Toby's mind had painted a pretty bleak picture of the place.

"Let me get this straight,” Chris said. “You were gonna confess to something you didn't do, fuck up your chances at parole, all to keep me out of solitary for a few days.”

“It could have been a lot longer than a few days.” Toby sighed, and then said, “Ok, so when you say it like that it sounds stupid. What was I thinking?”

“You weren't thinking Beech. I appreciate the sentiment, but could you try to use that Harvard brain of yours sometimes.” Keller leaned over and ruffled Toby's hair.

“This from the guy who confesses to anything I might do without asking me first. And before you get any ideas, I wasn't even born yet when Kennedy was shot,” Toby said.

Chris smirked at him. “Being the liberal prick that you are, I know you wouldn't have done that one. But where exactly were you when Reagan got shot?”

“Fuck you Keller,” Toby said with a chuckle.

"Anytime baby,” Chris said, leaning close enough that Toby could feel his breath. “But first we need to detangle ourselves from this mess.”

Toby glanced outside, not a hack in sight. Oh, he agreed with Chris, they did need to detangle themselves from this mess, but there was something else they needed to do first. He slid his arms over Chris's shoulders and then around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss. It was just a gentle touch of their lips at first, but Toby quickly found that his tongue was demanding more of Chris, just as his lips seemed to want to draw Keller deeper into him. God, he loved kissing Chris, feeling that warm connection as they explored familiar, well-loved territory. Toby felt Chris's hands on his ass, pushing him closer. He moaned slightly, wishing they could do so much more than this right now, but that would have to wait until later. He took a deep breath and heard Chris do the same. Slowly, they pulled apart.

Chris took a step back as a hack passed by their pod. A grin on his face, he said, “Don't think I didn't notice, you never answered my question about Reagan.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Knocking as he opened the door to Tim's office, Murphy stuck his head inside. “I'm heading out,” he said. “Just wanted to check and see if they're any developments in the Schillinger case?”

Tim shook his head no as he bent down behind his desk. “No, but you gotta take a look at this Murph.” McManus reached down with both hands and hoisted an object up onto his desk where it landed with a resounding thud.

Murphy walked into the office and shut the door. His eyes grew big as he caught sight of what McManus had laid out on the desk. “That, what I think it is Tm?”

“Yep. Who would make something like this?” Tim asked rolling the item around in his hands.

“And better yet why?” Sean smiled as he watched Tim caress the object in wonder.

“Bigger is better, my friend. It's the American way.” Tim shook his head in acknowledgment and set it back down on his desk. “It's not like you could put it in your mouth and suck on it. It's too fucking big, so what else could you do with it?”

Murphy chuckled as a wry grin spread across his face. “You mean besides club someone over the head with it.”

McManus laughed back. "Yeah besides that Murph.”

Sean leaned forward over Tim's desk and picked up what McManus had set down. He turned it over in his hands and stroked up and down, before another huge grin lit his face. “Hey listen to this. Warning: Improper use of this product could result in serious injury. Adult Supervision recommended. Manufacturer is not liable for any injuries sustained.”

"Looks like Schillinger won't be suing if and when he wakes up,” McManus said, as he leaned back in his chair.

"At least not the manufacturer.” Murphy said. “So we're no closer to solving this than yesterday.”

“Nope, but I'm waiting for Mineo to bring Timmy Kirk here. It seems he has some news he wants to share.”

“Be careful with that one, buddy. I trust him about as much as I do Gov. Devlin.”

“Well as we have no other leads, it won't hurt to hear what he has to say. Want to stay and find out what his info is?”

“Sure,” Murphy said, throwing the item up in the air a few inches and deftly catching it in his hands. “This puppy has some heft, I'll give you that.”

“And it didn't even shatter or anything.”

Murphy sat the item back down on Tim's desk. “Yeah, you'd think anything that came in contact with something as hard as Schillinger's head would bust for sure. How'd you end up with it anyway?"

Tim picked it up off his desk and bent over to open his bottom desk drawer. “Investigators dusted for prints and didn't find any so they told me to lock it up as evidence.” He put the item in the drawer and locked it

"What are you gonna do with it once the investigation's over.”

“Haven't a clue" Tim said, with a perplexed look on his face. “You know any recipes that call for a shitload of peppermint candy?”

"Can't say that I do,” Sean said, settling into one of the chairs opposite McManus. “That sounds like one of your lines, buddy. Hey you wanna come over to my place and see my 12 inch peppermint stick?"

"Fuck you Murph,” Tim said good-naturally.

Murphy snorted a laugh. “No thanks, my friend. Remember I've seen it and ain't overly impressed with your stick.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Pulling a shirt out of the dryer to fold, Toby wondered what he had been thinking when he suggested that they do some laundry. How depressing was it to be doing laundry on Christmas Eve? Still, one had to pass the day somehow, and he guessed Chris felt the same way, because he hadn't made single complaint when Toby suggested it. Although, he didn't seem exactly thrilled by the task, as he'd barely spoken two words since they started.

Toby had decided that for the moment, trying to get Chris to talk would be a bad idea. He had a right to be a bit blue on Christmas Eve. Toby knew that if he hadn't been looking forward to calling his kids this afternoon, he would probably be just as blue. He had Chris to thank for actually having something to look forward to on Christmas Eve, as it had been his suggestion to call the kids and read to them. Toby couldn't wait, but he knew that Chris was looking forward to nothing more than this day being over. Yeah, he'd let Chris have whatever space he needed, at least until tonight

“You cry wolf one too many times K-boy?” O'Reily called out as he entered the laundry room.

Dropping a shirt into his basket, Toby turned at the sound of Ryan's voice. He could tell by the look on O'Reily's face that he had some new information, and he hoped it was who had actually hit Vern. He and Chris had had no luck trying to pinpoint the culprit.

"You talking in fucking riddles again O'Reily, just to annoy me?” Chris asked, rolling his eyes.

Ryan leaned against the glass. “Just that both you and Beecher are here and not in the Hole. They didn't buy that one of you hit Vern.”

“It wasn't Beecher or me. Was it you O'Reily?” Chris walked toward Ryan, glaring at him in an intimidating manner.

Toby watched silently as Chris and Ryan performed their little dance of bait and attack. They'd been doing it for the past  week or so. Everything O'Reily said seemed to annoy Chris, and Ryan seemed to take pleasure in phrasing things in such a way so that it would be guaranteed to piss Chris off. Now, he knew Chris's lack of patience was because he hated the holidays. He had to wonder, though, was Ryan baiting Chris for the same reason. A little distraction to not think about holidays. Toby would bet that was exactly what Ryan was doing.

“Nah man. When I go after Schillinger, he won't just be hurt. He'll just get dead,” O'Reily said.

Keller laughed, derisively. “Cause you've been so successful in the past.”

“Fuck you. You want to hear my info or not?” Ryan asked as he got into Chris's face.

Toby figured it might be smart to insert himself into the conversation at this point, before Chris and Ryan talked themselves into a fistfight and Christmas Eve in the Hole. He walked over to the two men. “Don't mind him,” Beecher said, nodding toward Chris. “You know how gets when he's got to do laundry. What'd you find out O'Reily?”

Turning his attention to Beecher, Ryan said, “Nothing really.” He drew out the last word, and then paused for a moment before adding, “Just what happened to Vern.”

“We're waiting,” Chris said, annoyed. Ryan ignored him. “You heard what the weapon was right?”

“Not exactly, but we do know it wasn't a baseball bat or a pipe,” Beecher said with a glance toward Chris who smirked at him.

Glancing from Beecher to Keller, Ryan gave a small shake of his head before answering. “No, it ain't a bat or a pipe. It was peppermint.”

"Another fucking riddle, O'Reily,” Chris said, slamming his hand against one of the washers. “I just may have to kill you."

“No Keller, it really was peppermint. Some big ass peppermint stick about a foot long and 3 inches around"

"Death by candy cane,” Toby said laughing. “I'd have preferred if someone shoved it up Vern's ass, but this'll do in a pinch.”

“He's not dead yet, Beech,” Chris said. 

"I know Chris, but just think how funny it would be. Head Aryan Fuck taken out by a mint stick. It would be priceless.” Toby looked at Chris, but he still didn't seem to be getting the humor of the situation. 

"That's not even the best part,” Ryan said with a grin.

"There's more?” Chris asked. 

"Yep, guess who hit him.”

Now Toby was beginning to get frustrated with Ryan's making them pull out every tiny bit of information. At the same time as Chris, and just as annoyed, he asked, “Who?”

Ryan paused for effect and then said, “Robson.”

“Robson?” Chris and Toby both said. 

"Got sick of being second banana?” Chris mused as he leaned up against the folding table. 

"Nope. And you're gonna want to hear this Beecher."

“What?” Beecher asked, very curious as to what would make Robson attack Schillinger.

“It was all Vern's idea to mess with your parole.”

Both of Chris's hands slammed down on the table, and he pushed away from it. “That's it. That fucker is dead. I'll pull his plug myself. Cocksucker."

“Calm down Chris.” Toby placed a hand on Keller's arm. "What do you mean O'Reily?”

“Robson was supposed to hit Vern just hard enough to cause a little damage, and Vern was gonna say you did it,” Ryan said.

With a frown, Toby asked, “Why the fuck would I hit him with a candy cane?”

“Not a cane, a stick”

“Finish the goddamn story, O'Reily,” Chris growled.

Ryan gave Chris an annoyed look. “Keller, you need to chill man. Robson didn't realize how solid the stick was and what was supposed to be just a mild concussion, instead cracked Vern's skull wide open.”

“How'd you find this all out?” Chris asked. 

"Timmy Kirk overheard Robson talking to Hoyt about it and went to McManus with the news to try to get back into Em City.”

“That little cunt would rat out his mother,” Toby said with a snort. “McManus letting him come back?”

“Nope. Told him there was no room at the inn,” O'Reily said with a grin. “Anyway, the warden and McManus questioned Robson, and he came clean. Seems the nazi prick was all worried about big daddy Vern."

"So I guess this means we're in the clear,” Beecher said looking at Keller. He noticed that Chris didn't look relieved.

“I still say we need to teach Vern a lesson,” Chris said, a scowl on his face.

“Nah. It's Christmas Eve, and I'm feeling generous. Let's just let him sleep,” Toby said. Right now, he really didn't want to push their luck. This fiasco had resolved itself, and if he could put off dealing with Vern until the New Year, or whenever the fuck he woke up, so much the better. 

"Ok, Beech. Hey thanks, O'Reily,” Chris said, looking a bit more mellow

“Shit Keller, it must be Christmas. You actually spoke to me and didn't bite my fucking head off.”

“Fuck you O'Reily.”

“Merry Christmas to you too." Ryan laughed and left the room.

Toby just shook his head. Ryan just had to get one last jab in. Whatever. At least now they knew what had happened. He snickered, muttering, “Aryan Fuck taken out by mint stick.”

Chris grinned at him as they went back to pulling the rest of their laundry out of the dryer.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

  
Chris wondered if you could call it reading when you'd read the same sentence three times and still had no idea what it was. With a sigh, he put the open book on his chest. Reading just wasn't proving enough of a distraction to make him forget that it was fucking Christmas Eve. He figured he should feel happy or at least okay. After all, Toby hadn't hit Vern, so there was nothing to worry about. Fuck though, when he had thought Toby was responsible, he had been sure that it was the start of some Christmas time disaster that would end with him being permanently separated from Toby. The worst things always happened around Christmas. This time, though, things had all worked out. So what was his problem? Left over anxiety? Maybe.

Could it be that it bothered him how easily Toby had been willing to sacrifice his parole? Yeah. He couldn't be responsible for Toby doing something like that and not getting out to be with his kids. He wasn't worth that kind of sacrifice, and he wished Toby didn't seem so inclined to pull that kind of shit. Ever since he'd returned from Cedar Junction, Toby had been very protective. It was nice in a way, no one had ever tried to protect him before, but damn it, he didn't need to be protected. And he had to wonder why Toby was behaving like this. Was it some sort of guilt over him taking the rap for Hank's murder? Hell, he knew Beech cared about him. He had not doubt about that. It was just that Chris couldn't understand why Toby would be willing to risk going back to the life he belonged just to protect him.

So yeah, the risk Toby took was weighing heavily on his mind. He knew, though, that there was another reason for this ache that was weighing down his chest. It was numerous memories of this day and Christmas day gone wrong, all battling for front stage in his head. Those memories passed through his mind like lightning flashes as he refused to ponder each of them. So while he wasn't torturing himself with detailed memories, the disappointment of past years still haunted him. Why wasn't the damn season over with yet?

“We wish you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year”

Chris looked up at the sound of Toby singing, and his gaze was met by a brilliant smile. Toby looked so happy that he glowed.

Chris gave a fleeting smile. “I take it the storytelling went well.”

He knew it must have, and he was glad. He had felt so bad for Toby a week ago when he had told Chris that one of the things he missed most about Christmas Eve was reading “T'was the Night Before Christmas” to his kids. He had seemed so incredibly sad, and Chris had ached for him. Then, an idea had come to him.

“Don't your Daddy got one of those speaker phones? The kids could both listen to you read the book. I know you won't be there with them Beech, but it'll be like almost.” Chris had told him. Toby had loved the idea, and of course his father had taken care of all the details, including bringing Toby a copy of the story. Although Chris suspected Toby knew the thing by heart.

So yeah, he was glad for Toby. He wished he could be more enthusiastic. He wanted to be more enthusiastic. It was just...well, it was just that he couldn't seem to find his way out of this mood. How was it that he could feel happy, but have that happiness be drowned out by a sadness seeping into his blood? Shit, he had to shake this mood. He tried to find another smile to match Toby's but failed.

“Oh yeah,” Toby said, his high-voltage smile still firmly in place. “Thank you so much for thinking of it.”

“I didn't do nothing,” Chris said, closing the book on his chest.  

Toby laughed. “Nope, nothing at all. Just came up with a way for me to be there for my kids at Christmas. You're right, that's nothing at all,” he said sarcastically.

Chris tossed the book onto his bunk and sat up. “Toby, that's why you gotta stop worrying about me and concentrate on your kids.”

“Why can't I do both?” Toby asked, his smile gone.

Chris stared at the floor. _I can think of plenty of reasons, Beech_ , Chris thought. _Like because when you worry about me, you do stupid things, and there are more important things that you should be thinking of_. Aloud, though, he said nothing.

“What were you thinking about when I walked in here?” Toby walked over and sat down next to Chris.

Unwilling to discuss the melancholy thoughts plaguing him, Chris said the first thing that came to mind. “That we need to make Robson and Vern pay for trying to mess with your parole.”

“How about some poetic justice instead?” Toby asked with a grin.

Chris's stomach muscles clenched as if he had taken a blow. “What did you do Beech?” he asked, his voice rough and frantic. Oh shit, he should have known better than to think everything was all right.

“Calm down Chris. I just arranged a little something with O'Reily.”

“What?” Chris asked, rolling out the word slowly as he stood up and walked over to the back of the pod. He sure as fuck wasn't seeing any reason to calm down, not yet anyway.

“Just for good old James to find a peppermint candy on his pillow every night when he returns to his cell for lockdown,” Toby said.

Chris found he could breath again. “You didn't?” he said, his lips beginning to twitch in a smile.

“I did,” Toby said with a wicked a grin. “Just a little reminder of what an inept half-dicked wonder he really is. Not to mention, peppermint is an excellent breath freshener.”

Chris chuckled, as he leaned comfortably against the wall. “That's perfect Beech. You got something planned for Vern too?”

“I figure you and I can worry about Vern, if and when he wakes up.” Toby said and walked over to Chris.

“So, tell me, Keller, that a candy cane in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” He placed a hand on either side of Chris, trapping him against the wall.

“You know I'm always happy to see you,” Chris said, and then he was kissing Toby. The wall was cool and solid against his back, as Beecher pressed into him. He slid an arm around Toby's waist and was about to tug him closer when a loud bang on the pod door made them both jump.

“That ain't mistletoe above your heads, it's mold, so get the fuck away from each other. Otherwise one of you's gonna spend a silent night in the Hole,” Mineo said. He didn't wait for an answer, he just moved on.

“Fucking bastard,” Chris muttered.

Toby sat on the lower bunk and gave Chris a smile. “Later,” he mouthed, and Chris had to grin back. 

 _Oh yeah, definitely later_.

Count was called, and the doors were sealed for the night. All they had to do now was find something to pass the time until lights out and later became now. The seconds became minutes, and the minutes hours, but for Chris it all seemed to happen so fucking slowly. The sadness still lingered, but it was much more bearable with Toby there to help him pass the time.

An hour and a half before lights out, Chris saw something that finally managed to break his mood Murphy. Holy shit, Murphy was on duty tonight. Murphy rarely took the night shift anymore, which sucked, as he was one of the few hacks who wouldn't bother him and Beecher for being together. While he was sure it was lousy for Murphy having to work Christmas Eve, it was one hell of a break for him and Toby.

Once in a great while, he and Toby got to take their time when they made love, and Chris cherished those moments. Not that he had any complaints about the hot, heavy and fast lovemaking they normally had to engage in. Fuck, if he was touching Toby, he wasn't complaining. Still, it was a bit of heaven to be able to spend time just appreciating the feel of Toby's body wrapped around him.

While the last half hour crept away bit by bit, Chris was sure he was going to burst from the anticipation. He had just finished washing his face, when finally the lights went out. Chris turned and leaned against the sink, his eyes immediately locking with Toby's. Beecher, who had been lying on his bunk, stood up. Chris found that he was across the pod before he even realized he was walking. Toby stepped into his open arms, and when their lips met, Chris felt a sense of peace. The memories were silent.

Toby pulled back slightly, and Chris smiled at him. “We've got the whole night." 

“I know,” Toby said. He gave Chris a quick, light kiss, and then added, “First I want to give you something, though.”

Chris backed away instantly. “No, you promised. Damn it Toby, you promised. No fucking presents.”

“Wait, Chris. Just listen to me. I didn't mean to upset you. And it's not a gift really. I mean it is a gift, but it's not one I bought. And well, it's something you already have, but I don't think I've really told you. So maybe it's not really a gift, but a declaration, or...Christ, I'm rambling,” Toby said without taking a single breath.

“Huh?”

Toby took a deep breath and said, “I love you. And if sometimes it seems like I'm trying to protect you, it's only because when you were gone, I was lost. Chris, I'm lost without you. I can't ever forget you, you're part of me now. Just as I'm part of you.”

Chris couldn't move, let alone speak. God, that's how he had felt when they were separated, so fucking lost.

After taking another deep breath, Toby continued, “I wouldn't recklessly mess up my chances at parole, but nor will I stand by and see you hurt. Could you just sit there and watch someone hurt me?”

“No,” Chris whispered.

“Well, loving you like I do, neither can I. I need you. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that, and to realize that needing you makes me feel whole. I've always felt like I was missing something, until you. I'm not lost anymore. I guess what I'm trying to say is my gift to you is me. I just wanted to tell you that. I'm yours here, now, forever, no matter what physical distance there may be between us. I love you.” Toby closed the space between him and Chris, pressing their foreheads together.

“I love you Toby,” Chris said, breathing heavily. “I love you, but I don't deserve you.”

Toby pulled back to meet Chris's eyes. “Wrong answer. You're supposed to give a gift in return, yourself. But then I already know I have that gift. It's the gift I cherish most. And I guess I can see where you're coming from on being unworthy, because I don't deserve you Chris. So what do you say we just forget about who deserves what, and consider ourselves lucky.”

“Ok, I'll try Toby. I'll really try.” Chris closed his eyes for a second, and then pulled Toby to him, kissing him roughly. “I need you,” he whispered against Toby's lips.

“Then you have me all night, every night,” Toby said.

Chris lifted off Toby's shirt, and then found his own being tugged off. Pants, socks, boxers were all quickly discarded in the quest for skin. They tumbled onto the bunk, and only when their naked bodies were pressed full length against each other, did their kisses finally become less frantic. Tongues still explored the warm depths of each other's mouths, but they did so now with more care, taking advantage of the time they had.

With his leg wrapped around Toby's, Chris finally felt like they were close enough. He could feel the heat radiating off of Toby, warming him all the way through. Chris traced his hand down Toby's arm to his side, and then feather light along his hip. God, he loved the silken feel of Toby's skin. Having satisfied one sense, Chris decided to tantalize another. He leaned in and kissed Toby's collarbone, sucking lightly. Toby jerked, and Chris felt their erections slide against each other. His moan was lost in their kiss.

Chris felt like he could spend forever like this touching Toby, letting Toby touch him. He spread his legs slightly, as Toby's hands sought out the area by his butterfly tattoo. Up the inside of his thigh they went, teasing his balls, and then grabbing onto his penis. Christ that felt good. He wanted to scream out how good, but that would surely bring the hacks running. He grabbed one of Toby's wandering hands, and distracted himself by sucking on each of the fingers, swirling his tongue when he came to their tips.

Eventually, Chris released Toby's hand, and they both returned to exploring every inch of skin. Sensitive spots were found, teased, and relinquished. They allowed their tongues to make paths that lips could blow dry, causing each to other shiver.

Toby traced an outline of the tattoo on Chris's arm and said, “Make love to me.”

“Yes, oh yes,” were the only words Chris could manage to get out. He slipped his hand underneath the mattress, touching only the edge of the lube. He had to stretch a bit before he could get a good grasp on it.

When he had it in his hand, he said to Toby, “Lay on your side, okay?”

Toby didn't answer; he did as he was asked. Chris curled up behind him. He ran his hands down that beautifully strong back, as he slid open the cap on the lube. He kissed the back of Toby's neck while one slick finger made its way between Toby's cheeks and to his opening. His finger pressed gently at the opening, and easily went in. Toby rocked his hips back, a low moan escaping from him. Chris added another finger, as he continued to kiss Toby's neck and back.

It wasn't long before he replaced his hand with his penis, and carefully pushed his way inside. Chris loved the feeling of their bodies pressed together, back to front. He wrapped an arm around Toby, as he began to move slowly. His hand was tracking patterns on Toby's stomach when Toby grabbed it, locking their fingers together, and then pressing their entwined fingers back against his stomach.

Their pace quickened, even as Chris wished they could slow it down, make this last longer. His body had other ideas, as did Toby's. Their hands unclasped, and Chris slid a hand down to Toby's penis, wrapping his fingers around the taut skin there. Sensations overloaded, and he could feel warmth on his hand as Toby came. Chris's body tensed, and then he was spilling into Toby.

For a moment both men were still, as they tried to catch their breaths. His head resting on Toby's back, Chris felt too relaxed to move. Toby squirmed slightly, though, and so Chris moved back a little to give him room, what there was to spare.

As he regained more and more of his ability to think, Chris felt a mixture of emotions stir in him that he hadn't felt in years. It was the combination of wonder, joy, and hope that he used to associate with Christmas Eve. Maybe it wasn't a fucking fairy tale after all. For this Christmas Eve, he had the only thing he wanted — Toby.

Flushed skin had cooled, and Chris shivered a little. He reached down to pull the sheet over them, and as he did, Toby turned to face him. Once the sheet was draped around their hips, Chris kissed Toby.

And when he drew back and looked down at Toby, what Chris saw took his breath away. Toby had that glow of happiness again, but this time Chris was almost certain it was because of him. Like maybe, just maybe Toby had finally gotten what he always wanted for Christmas as well. And what he wanted was Chris.

Chris bent forward and kissed Toby's forehead before claiming his mouth once more.

“Merry Christmas,” Toby said, slipping a hand around to massage Chris's nape.

“Yeah, it is,” Chris said, smiling. “Merry Christmas.”


End file.
